Difficult Week

Malachi

Malachi

This has been one of those all consuming weeks.

  • Hope’s teacher wrote home, inquiring if, perhaps, Hope had missed her meds. (She hadn’t) She isn’t raging, but her temper tantrums are still epic, and she is still not safe.
  • GB switched therapists, as planned. She said goodbye to the therapist in the Little City that she shared with Hope. She started with her new therapist. The goal is that GB be able to express her needs verbally in “I” statements. She did much better than I expected.
  • GB and MK had a session together with the family dynamics therapist. I haven’t seen any changes in their interactions.
  • Malachi is still struggling. I enlisted the help of his other grandfather to get Booboo to agree to two days a week in a therapeutic preschool. I do not know yet how successful that was.
  • The Dad realized this week that on his retirement income we can’t afford to live in our current house; at least not while subsidizing J and MK. Duh.
  • We have been consciously cutting costs. We had already started our Food Diet- buying only food in it’s natural state, which helps not only our bodies, but our grocery bills.
  • The Dad started talking to MK about how we would be able to help her, now that we have much less money to live on. She flipped out. She has calmed down, but isn’t ready to explore her options. The Dad is confident MK will be cooperative.
  • I am busy with my new virtual filing cabinet. I finally have it usable and have started filing both girls school records in it. A paper free life sounds delicious!
  • Our rescheduled appointment with Hope’s new therapist is Monday. Unfortunately, it conflicts with my appointment with the neurologist. The neurologist needs to be rescheduled.
  • Hope is saying goodbye to the therapist in the Little City this morning. She is unhappy about having to change.
  • As I am switching to a paper free life, I realize there is a lot of other stuff clutter we do not need. Minimalists may be on to something!

Back to School

girls

Today was the girls’ first day back to school after winter break. GB started her new class in her new school. They take different buses, but leave and arrive within a couple of minutes of each other. After they were safely on the bus, I began to worry- serious worry that consumed my mind and left no room for everything else.

It is hard to send any child into a new school situation in the middle of the year. It is even harder when that child has disabilities that make communication difficult for them. My primary goal is that she feel competent at school and finds joy on occasion. I still want her to learn as much as she is capable of learning. I do not want to put limits on the future of a child who hasn’t turned 10 yet.

GB came home with a smile, one page of homework, and lots of things to share. Day 1 went well. Hope came of the bus whining and complaining and pure attitude. She struggled through homework and when it was bath time, she lost it. She didn’t come back. The bottom line on Hope is that she still is not safe. Her psychiatrist is suppose to come back this month.The medication she is on does not cut it. We meet with her new therapist Friday. I am hoping she will lead us in a new direction.

My moment of the day: laying in bed with GB, working on a word search puzzle. She is a very visual kid and is good  at them. We enjoy them together and it doesn’t hurt her vocabulary or spelling skills.

Welcome, 2013

Exactly one  year ago, I wrote this post, https://adoptingspecialneeds.wordpress.com/2012/01/page/3/ . My word for 2012 was going to be “moment“, as staying in the moment. Looking back, I would have to say I failed more often then I succeeded. There was a a 3 month period over the summer where I was unable to start fresh each moment. Getting physically beat up can do that to a person.

The last couple of months The Dad has been Hope’s primary caregiver. Yesterday, Hope raged and got him with a head butt in the face. It looked painful. She kicked me, but it didn’t catch me by surprise, as she had already kicked The Dad’s brother.

Hope is on medication, which she wasn’t on this time last year. Her raging is a little less in terms of frequency and intensity- but not much. This year provided very little healing for Hope.

We have a new configuration of therapists lined up. If you are interested you can read it on the other blog.

I am looking at 2013 as a fresh start, but I decided to use the word “moment” again. I do not want to repeat all of 2012’s mistakes again this year. I still think an RTF is Hope’s best shot, but I am willing to try a new approach. For Hope’s sake, for my families sake, I pray for healing.

Good Bye 2012

2012 was a long year and I am not sorry to see it go. My health reared up and demanded attention. I lost my focus with Hope, lost it in a sea of attachment. I forgot I was trying to make Hope an integral part of my family. I let others take the lead with Hope. I have never done that with one of my kids.

I thought I was improving my relationship with Mk, but it was superficial. She still hates me and thinks I hate her. I have been married almost 35 years and this year I came closer to divorce then ever before.

There were mixed events. I got to know GB’s needs much better. The cost? I had to face how much damage alcohol exposure prenatally did to her. My pain has steadily increased, but I discovered acupuncture provided relief. I dared to reach out to new friends. It is a much better way to live, but it sometimes results in pain.

There were a couple of blessings. Jimmy came back into our lives. I have three new grandchildren and became a great grandmother for the first time. We found a team of four therapists to work with our family.

2013 holds the joy and promise of healing and a new start.

No Answers

Another tragedy. Another shooting. Still no gun control. Still unwilling to fund necessary mental health treatment.

Politicians insisting on protecting unborn fetuses, while refusing to commit to caring for these children after they have taken their first breath.

Having several adopted children with RAD or the adult version of Borderline Personality Disorder, yet not having community support or even a consensus of what treatment will help.

My youngest is still struggling every single day. I did not take her from her mother. I did not cause the damage that torments her. I try to make a difference and then hear RAD is just an excuse to abuse children.

I have no answers. Do you?

Visiting with J. and Family

We spent two full days with my friend, J., and her family. J and her most excellent husband have adopted three children from trauma backgrounds. Their youngest is very close to Hope in age and behaviors. The two girls became quickly inseparable. GB and J.’s two oldest also enjoyed being together. It was good to spend time with J. and meet her husband. It was good for The Dad to have the opportunity to be with adults who “get it”.

 

Canada is a beautiful country. I have driven through parts of it before as we drove to Michigan, but this is the first time I have seen Canada in daylight. The reds on the turning trees were beautiful. Beautiful old homes and vast fields with wooden fences that were different than any fence I have seen before. I have always assumed Canada was just like the USA, like a  far north state. It is and it isn’t.

 

J. and her family were so warmly welcoming it was like coming home. When Hope’s first trip to the bathroom resulted in a shaving cream cans worth of mess, there was no surprise. Hope continued to be Hope and J. was ready for it and the time flew, with everybody enjoying themselves. The acting out behaviors were just a ripple in our time together.

 

When we had to leave this morning, Hope did not take it well. We stopped at a Starbucks for coffee right after leaving J.s. Hope started raging in the car and continued on the side of the drive thru lane. It lasted for over forty five minutes. Once she was done, it was still six hours to home. She was nasty and miserable for the rest of the ride. When we stopped to eat, The Dad took Hope to sit at a different table to eat. It should not have bothered me as Hope was being so nasty I didn’t really want to deal with her. It did.

 

J. lives in the middle of nowhere. One thing J.’s husband said last night, as we visited over (good) wine, was that they could never raise kids from the hard places  in suburbia.  Living in a place where 12 or more neighboring families hear your kid rage is stressful. Part of it is the knowledge that sooner or later CPS will show up on your doorstep is wearing. It also makes putting your child outside to rage an option we don’t have.

 

J. has offered to take Hope in respite for a while. Other people I trust have also offered. My fear is how Hope will react. It is not yet a rational fear. I still have some processing to do.

 

 

 

Mary, Joseph, and the Shrink

Our latest worker, aptly called Mary Poppins by my friend, came to see the shrink with us this morning. I knew Mary Poppins was clueless and I planned on calling her supervisor this afternoon and either getting a different worker or discontinuing the agencies services.

The shrink was pleased with how well GB was doing and Mary sat there quietly. That took 10 minutes of our hour. The other 50 minutes were devoted to Hope. Honestly, I am not quite sure how everything fell apart, but when we were done with Hope, the SPOA application was put on hold, Hope was off the anxiety medication and we were coming back in three weeks.

Nothing has changed with Hope’s behavior. When she is interacting with me it has actually gotten worse. I feel like not only wasn’t I being heard by Mary, but now I was also not being heard at the shrink’s. Joe (The Dad) won’t talk about anything beyond “now”. I am not willing to waste another three weeks with everything staying the same or getting worse. Last week, Hope’s service providers took 12 hours of my time, plus numerous phone calls to arrange details. With SPOA paperwork derailed, there will be no RTF or RTC this year. Life will just go on.

I can not and will not do it anymore. Joe has Hope. I will no longer discuss Hope, answer calls about Hope, go to meetings about Hope, make plans concerning Hope, or schedule Hope’s appointments. I won’t even call to get Mary Poppins replaced.

All our services for Hope are time sensitive. We are midway through our time allotted for all our outside help. Nothing has changed. Reams of paperwork filled out, endless hours of meetings and therapy, and nothing is better. I am willing to work hard for Hope to become a functioning part of our family. I am done playing the system’s games.

And if that brings out the Trolls, makes me evil or a failure, so be it. I am already screwed.